


Air of December

by sockslost



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: (that is still my favorite tag because it's basically my bread and butter), Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff without Plot, Subtle Romance, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockslost/pseuds/sockslost
Summary: Just a Christmas Eve one-shot. I originally posted this on FFN a few years ago, so it's not completely up to date canon. (Though it doesn't really follow any kind of plot point so that's kind of a moot point.) Thought I would post this here in honor of it being the first day of December! Rizzles. One-shot....December has an air about it that seeps through the cracks of everything, and today is no different.Jane sighs blissfully as she steps through Maura’s front door. It's Christmas Eve, and if home and happiness had a smell – it's this.





	Air of December

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, not making money etc. etc.

December has an air about it that seeps through the cracks of everything, and today is no different.

Jane sighs blissfully as she steps through Maura’s front door. It's Christmas Eve, and if _home_ and _happiness_ had a smell – it's this.

For a moment, she's ten again and racing inside just in time for dinner. If she closes her eyes she can smell the food coming out of the oven, and hear her mother yelling at her for dragging her wet shoes across the carpet and scolding her for not hanging up her coat. And the best part, always, was when she came back downstairs in fresh-out-of-the-dryer clothes, a wide smile on her face because it's  _Christmas,_ her mother would wrap her in the blanket from the back of the couch and put a cup of cocoa in her hands, like love in a mug.

Standing here, just inside of her best friend's house, feels exactly like that.

The workday was tedious and she had been the only one in their group to have to go in because she had procrastinated on doing her paperwork – the necessary, but boring part of her job. With little snowflakes clinging to her dark hair and nose and cheeks so red she is sure she could lead Santa’s sleigh – it hits her. Right there in the foyer of Maura's house.

 _Home._  
_Love._  
 _Companionship._

Her dog runs up to her tail wagging furiously behind her. Someone, her mother no doubt, has put bells on her collar and forced her into a red knitted sweater. Even Bass makes an effort to turn in her direction, a red bow, she notices, stuck to his shell. Her mother is yelling at Tommy for sneaking a cookie and Frankie is sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand as he talks with Lydia who is holding baby TJ.

And then, Jane's eyes finally land on the one person she desperately, unknowingly has been looking for.

Her eyes land on Maura and everything inside of her settles. The random thoughts buzzing inside her head, the noise from the rest of her family and friends – it goes quiet, drifting somewhere in the background.

Maura is wearing a bright red Santa hat and snug jeans and a Christmas sweater with a big ugly Christmas tree on the font complete with brightly colored spots Jane thinks are supposed to be ornaments. The white rimmed fuzz from the hat sticks out against Maura’s nearly blond hair and she’s barely wearing any make up and that wide smile graces her face when their eyes meet. Jane thinks she’s never seen this woman look so breathtaking in her entire life.

In this moment, Jane wants to do so many things, be so many things, say so many things – but it all gets clogged like a traffic jam. She doesn’t even know what it is she really wants, just that it’s… _something._ But Maura is already standing in front of her, hazel eyes full of warmth and happiness and love. At that last one, the want sparks again anew inside of Jane and she thinks that perhaps the _something_ isn’t quite as unknown as she thinks because she so desperately wants to know just what kind of love is shining from Maura’s eyes. Instead of asking, she mumbles a _hey_ and knows the redness on her face isn’t just from the cold.

Maura’s smile broadens when Jane speaks with just a hint of concern. “Jane, you must be freezing!” She reaches out and rubs the brunette’s arms for a brief moment before pulling the coat from Jane’s lean body and hanging it on the hook next to her own. She loops her arm through Jane’s at the elbow and leads her away to the guestroom where she’s already set out fresh clothes for Jane on the bed. “I can’t believe you had to work on Christmas Eve.” Maura says absently as she shuts the door.

Jane laughs because she can remember a time when it was Maura steadfastly trapped in her office waiting on a dead body that would never come as the sun set on a Boston Christmas Eve. _Oh, how the tables have turned,_ she finds herself thinking.

When Maura steps away from her, Jane immediately wishes her back. “Cavanaugh needed that report in.” Jane untucks her shirt and sits on the bed to kick off her boots. She flexes her toes in the carpet loving the feel and wishing she had a thicker pair of socks to wear with her tennis shoes. Before she can say anything, a pair of the softest looking socks imaginable appears in her line of sight. Maura is looking down at her with a soft smile and an eyebrow quirked. Warmth bursts through Jane's chest as she takes the socks. “What’s that you’re always telling me about procrastination?”

Maura laughs, and Jane's heart soars. "Don't do it?"

Jane nods and stands. Her fingers go to the buttons of her shirt and that warmth she had felt a moment before evaporates just as quickly as it came. After an entire day of fastidious typing and report writing, her fingers are slow and hardly function. It’s a struggle to undo the top two buttons. Suddenly, hot tears burn at the corners of her eyes and she hates herself for just a moment because Maura is watching her and of course she’s going to notice the tremor in her hands. How is she supposed to explain that winters and snow and hands don’t go well together? She’s in the middle of fighting the third button when steady hands cover her own.

“Let me.” Maura’s breath is hot against her face and smells of mint and sugar and Jane can’t help but smile.

Shakily, Jane drops her arms to her sides letting Maura finish the job. She can’t see Maura’s face properly, doesn’t need to, but Jane knows with the delicate way that Maura undoes each button, with the way that Maura’s words hang between them, that it’s okay that her hands don’t always work.

Jane sighs as the last button falls loose and Maura pushes the shirt from her shoulders. It’s Christmas and she really ought to get her mind out of the darkness. She feels Maura’s hands again pulling at her tank top and unfastening her belt. She tries not to get lost in that feeling – in the way soft hands push against her clothes, against her skin. She hopes Maura doesn’t notice the way her heartbeat increases, the way her mouth goes a little dry, the goosebumps that break out against her skin. She’s grateful that Maura seems to be getting carried away with the mission rather than Jane’s reaction.

But Jane knows why.

Jane’s entire immediate family is in Maura’s living room, has been for who knows how long and Jane knows what that’s like. More importantly, she understands what that must feel like to Maura who never had any of this before. No matter how many years that went by, or how many holidays they spent together Jane knew it would always be at least slightly unnerving and overwhelming.

So she lets Maura pull her tank-top over her head, listens as she scolds her about wearing thicker clothing, lets her pull the long-sleeved shirt in its place and the sweater over that before going for her pants.

They fall heavy to the floor still burdened with her gear, the carpet softens the sound. Jane knows by the relief she feels as it all falls away from her, the way her shoulders finally fall in relaxation, that its been a long year.

She knows she looks ridiculous standing there in her thick socks and Christmas sweater and underwear. But Maura is still talking about winter lines and winter clothing and Jane can hear the smile in her voice as she bends down jeans in hand and tells her to step into the pants – like this is normal and Jane suddenly wishes it were.

She uses Maura's shoulder for balance then pulls them all the way up once they get to her knees. Maura turns away as she buttons them and Jane thinks she's about to leave, but then there is a bright red Santa hat thrust into her hands.

Maura smiles – it’s one of those smiles that’s all bright eyed and shows her dimples perfectly, "please?"

Jane can only nod because this is Maura and of course she'll wear the stupid hat. She takes it and places it crookedly on her head. She takes a moment to fix her hair and then quirks an eyebrow at her friend, smirking. "How's it look?"

There's a slight pause between her question and Maura's answer. There's a slight pause in which Maura's eyes don't run down her body or stare wantonly at her lips. Her smile grows wider, and she brushes a stray dark curl away from Jane's face and underneath the bright red hat. "Perfect."

…

Jane and Maura are both thrown straight into the chaos the second they step out of their sanctuary.

Korsak has joined in on the festivities and her mother is talking to Lydia's mother. Everyone has some sort of drink in their hand. The baby is talking gibberish. Frankie laughs obnoxiously from the couch at something Tommy says. It's loud, and Jane feels Maura take a tiny step backwards into the hallway.

Jane reaches out because that's what she does, who she is. She takes Maura's hand in her tired one and squeezes, giving her a reassuring smile while she's at it. "It'll be okay." She says. She wants to say more, say better, but she's Jane Rizzoli and _more_ and _better_ don't always happen, so she settles for what she knows.

Maura swallows hard giving herself a big nod. 

Angela greets them in surprise wondering when Jane snuck into the house. Korsak nods at her over an eggnog, and nobody talks about their intertwined fingers. Jane sneaks a cookie sticking it in her mouth as she makes herself a cup of hot chocolate one handed. Maura looks on amused. Jane laughs as she throws some marshmallows into the concoction. She starts to make a second one for Maura but the cookie in her mouth begins to crumble. Maura catches it before it crashes to the floor. They both laugh, their fingers still tightly wound together.

And Jane has that feeling again.

 _Home._  
_Love._  
 _Companionship._

Big words, that mean big things. But in this moment, in Maura's kitchen where she knows where the doctor keeps all of the silverware and the good china and the secret stash of unhealthy food Maura would vehemently deny the existence of – those words aren't so scary.

She gave up things like _safety_ and _security_ when she decided to chase the things that go bump in the night for a living, but she feels those obscure words here in Maura’s kitchen every Saturday morning in running gear, on those nights when Maura’s head finds a resting place on her shoulder, and right now. She feels safe and secure in everything they refuse to say, in everything they dance around.  She feels safe and secure, and it’s Christmas, and there’s a warmth dancing bone deep within her because they’re both wearing Santa hats and Christmas sweaters and Maura’s hand feels so perfect in hers. 

She laughs when Maura takes a sip of her cocoa and her nose comes away from the mug covered in whipped cream. Maura pokes her in the ribs laughing as she wipes the mustache off.

Angela looks at her daughter from the kitchen table a knowing smile on her face. That is all she has ever needed and wanted for her children. She shares a knowing look with Vince and they both nod approvingly.

The kids are alright.

…

When it's time to open presents they all sit in Maura's living room. Filled to the brim with people it doesn't feel so huge, so empty. The tree takes up a good portion of the space, as do the presents underneath, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is laughing and cheering as Frankie passes the presents out to everyone. Jane and Maura are both on the floor cross legged with their knees touching.

Maura glances at Jane out of the corner of her eye as she catches a present from Frankie. She's smiling wide and her nose crinkles at the bridge when she laughs. Maura has never felt so drawn to someone in all her life. She just wants to be around Jane, right where she is, knees slightly touching. She wants to have this moment forever, wants this family forever.

Korsak is sitting next to Angela – they are both laughing. Lydia and Tommy are talking and Lydia's mother is holding the baby. This is how she always imagined Christmas was supposed to be – full of life and love and laughter.

"Heads up!" Frankie yells as he throws a small neatly wrapped box at Maura. She's too slow, too caught in her reverie to get it in time, but luckily Jane caught the box before it hit her in the face.

"Better pay attention there, Slick." Jane teases bumping their shoulders.

Maura rolls her eyes at the nickname. She insisted they go running in the snow a week ago. And of course, after telling Jane to be careful of the ice  _she's_  the one who slipped and fell. Which lead to a very undignified piggy back ride courtesy of Jane for the rest of the way home because she was limping so badly. She hasn’t heard the end of it yet.

She takes the box from Jane's hand before letting this all sink in. Her living room is enveloped by the cacophonous sound of ripping wrapping paper and Christmas music and Frankie finally sits down with his own pile of presents. She tries to keep her eyes from welling with tears.

This, all of this, is more than she ever thought of, ever dreamed of.

…

Jane stares at Maura as she shuts the door after escorting her mother to the guest house. Maura is smiling, her cheeks a pleasant rosy color as she picks up stray wrapping paper and gift bags and mugs. Jane blinks.

She loves this woman.

She doesn't know why it's hitting her now. She doesn't quite fully understand herself sometimes, but it is, and it's unmistakable.

She is completely in love with this woman.

As she looks at Maura, as the faint songs of a Christmas album plays in the background, and the glow of colorful lights illuminate the space and the air of December fills the room, it's the only thing going through her mind.

Jane's heart does that flutter thing it's been doing lately when she thinks of Maura. It makes sense now. And that want of _something_ she felt when she walked through the door earlier in the evening – she understands it now too.

Maura looks up. Their eyes lock. That smile is playing on her lips and her hazel eyes are light and mysterious and Jane knows.

She steps forward as Frosty the Snowman plays on the stereo, the wind howls outside of the windows.

They are safe.

They are secure.

She is mere inches away from Maura. Jane feels her drop the trash sack she is holding and lace her fingers through Jane’s belt loops instead.

There needn't be any words. No flashy sighs of affection or big confessions. It's just them and December and Christmas.

Stiff fingers trace over lightly freckled cheeks. There is a sigh, a tilt of a head. "Jane." The word falls from her lips in just a whisper before Jane finally, finally gains the courage to close the space between them.


End file.
